


Acceptance

by ProjectAlice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha!Sam, Alpha/Omega, M/M, PWP, Season 8 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProjectAlice/pseuds/ProjectAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written from the press release about the new Supernatural episode, 8.14, Trial and Error.  </p><p>The boys discuss who should kill the hellhound.</p><p>Unbeta'd</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acceptance

"They scare the shit out of you, Dean!"

Sam watched his brother swerve around to face him, eyes wide and mouth parted in a mute gasp.

Sam shrugged his shoulders and gave them his signature roll. "You can deny it all you want. I saw how you were when you got back from Hell. I was there, listening, watching, while you were having nightmares. And Dean, it's nothing to be ash-"

"I am not scared." Dean growled lowly. He was right in Sam's face now, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. The rage rolling of his older brother was practically palpable. Sam sighed throwing his hands up in defeat. God forbid Dean actually allow himself to appear any form of weak in front of anybody, let alone Sam. But he wasn't fooling anyone. Sam had seen, Sam could see, the bone-deep terror in his brother's vivid, green eyes, every time they broached the subject of hellhounds.

"Whatever." said Sam, resignedly, because ever since Dean got back from Purgatory, it was like he'd made it his personal mission to fortify his personal walls, ten-fold, like he was trying to hide something. Something that had happened down there, but he would rather die than let Sam find out. Oh he let those very walls erode slightly with the wash of Cas' soft words and even more-so with Benny. But should Sam come along, asking a question, Dean would lock himself up tighter than the Alcatraz back in the day. There really was no getting through to him, or trying to change his mind once he was dead-set on something, so Sam seldom even tried anymore. But on this, he wasn't budging either. Dean wouldn't be facing any hellhounds anytime soon, and if Sam had it his way, ever. Well, to be honest, if Sam had it his way, Dean wouldn't be facing anything, ever.

Dean eyed Sam suspiciously, no doubt thrown by Sam's sudden acquiescence. "Good. So it's settled then?" Sam couldn't say for certain whether or not Dean meant to enunciate the phrase as a question, but judging by the way Dean was now slowly backing away, out of Sam's personal space, and by the slight, barely audible quiver in his voice, Sam guesses not. He sighed again, a lot more content this time. It seemed like even when he was at his angriest, Dean was always seeking Sam’s approval, in the littlest of ways.  
"Yeah, sure, settled. If by settled, you mean that I'm killing a hound in the next couple of days, then yeah."

Dean groaned, and his hopeful face crumpled into exasperation. "Saaammmmm..." he whined. Sam's beamed inwardly at that, spying a brother he had long since thought he'd lost. Whiny and pushy: his Dean.

Outwardly though, he sagged to lean against the door-frame separating the bathroom, and the surprisingly beige and unremarkable motel room, and shoved his hands in his jean’s pockets. He kept his face and voice calm as he asked, "And do you know why it's gonna be me?"

"Educate me, you pussy-haired freak." Dean mumbled, disgruntledly throwing himself on the bed.

Sam folded his arms and fixed his brother with an intense stare. Dean held it with his own challenging gaze for a couple of seconds, eyebrows raised, then he started to fidget slightly where he sat, wringing his hands and blinking rapidly. Sam almost rolled his eyes as he watched his brother fight his most natural instincts, which were probably screaming at him to lower his eyes.

"Because Dean, because I'm bigger than you. Because I'm smarter than you. Because, in very single way, I am stronger than you."

"Like hell you are!" Dean objected predictably, shooting up from the bed, fists clenched.

"But mostly, Dean," continued Sam, speaking right over the protests practically bubbling in Dean's mouth. Dean's mouth...

"Mostly because I'm an Alpha." This stopped Dean right in his tracks, just like Sam knew it would. "And you're not." he added, just for good measure.

It wasn't like Sam didn't know he was playing dirty. He knew how Dean felt about being born a bitch. An Omega. Oh sure, Dean pretended like he didn't have a problem with it. With Sam, he would make it a point to point out how actually okay with it he really was. "It's not like I care, Sammy. It makes no difference. A dick is a dick, right? It's fine. It's FINE. I'm FINE!" And perhaps Sam would have believed him, had Dean's infamous "It's fine" speeches not been contradicted by the fact that he did everything in his power to prove to everyone else that wasn't Sam, that he was, in fact, an Alpha. Between the leather-jackets, the flirting, the snarky attitude and the cock-rock, he made a pretty convincing one too. However, when you've seen your brother on his back, head thrown back in ecstasy, teeth bared, loud whimpers escaping his swollen, bitten lips and four fingers plunging rapidly, in and out of his soaked asshole, the whole maybe-he-is, maybe-he-isn't thing tends to go out the window. And no matter how bad-ass Dean's car was, it couldn't make up for the fact that Dean's dick was about the size of Sam's middle finger. In Dean's defense, Sam has really big hands.

Dean's beautiful, green eyes were brimming with tears when he said softly, "You promised me you'd never use that against me."

Sam knew he should've felt bad. He hates it when his brother cries. But that's not to say he doesn't like seeing it. When Dean hurts, he becomes vulnerable. The kind of vulnerable one would die to take advantage of, twist and squeeze and stretch until Dean bends to your will. Sam felt his dick twitch as he watched his brother’s lush, lower lip tremble slightly.

"I know, Dean. I know what I said." said Sam, running a hand through his lengthy hair, but still mostly containing his casual posture. "But Dean, sometimes, I feel like you need to be reminded that you're just ...a bitch. Bottom of the food chain. You serve practically no purpose but to suck dick, be knotted, and bare cubs."

There was a small intake of breath from Dean, clearly shocked.

Sam began to speak more clearly, and louder, now that he knew he was getting through to Dean. He let the authority that came with being an Alpha lace his words as he continued. "You're not an Alpha, Dean. And it's time to stop thinking like one. What if that hellhound turned out to be an Alpha, huh? It looks at you the right way, and you would be belly up for it, baring your neck in no time. You'd probably get wet for it too. You're an unmated Omega in your thirties that hasn't gone through a heat since you were sixteen. With a hellhound that close, you'd be spreading your legs like a slut, begging it to fuck you within five minutes flat. And you know what?" Sam chuckled "It probably would. It would rape that ripe, virgin cunt of yours, before ripping your throat out so fast, by the time you've bled out, it's come would still be dribbling out of your ass."  


Dean was absolutely still now, staring unseeingly at the plain wall in front of him. His fists were trembling, as his tears finally started falling. Sam took that as his cue, and started approaching Dean slowly, coming to a halt right in front of him, right in his face, making sure to use his height to the fullest. He was basically towering over his brother.  
Slowly, he took Dean's hand into his own, turning it so that he could lightly run his fingertips against the soft, smooth skin of his brother's palm. Dean's fingers twitched, and a shiver ran through his body, but other than that, he stood perfectly still.

"Maybe," Sam said quietly, caressing Dean's hand, "Maybe I need to do more than remind you, huh Dean? About where you belong?" Then, Dean started, a small gasp falling from his lips, when Sam suddenly gripped his delicate wrist tightly. Sam's hand big enough to cover almost half of his forearm, and strong enough to cut off his blood circulation.  


"Maybe I need to show you." Sam practically growled. Without further ado, he flippantly undid the button of his jeans with his unoccupied hand and shoved Dean's smaller hand into his boxers, making Dean grasp his fully hard dick. Dean was panting slightly, his arm making a valiant but futile attempt to break free from Sam's grasp.

"Don't fight it, Dean." Sam whispered, as he leaned and nuzzled Dean's neck, breathing into his ear. Gradually, he started moving his hand in small, up-down movements, making Dean jerk him off. "Fuck, baby, just stop fighting it. Aren't you tired of denying who you are? You were born to be a cockslut, Dean. Why can't you just accept that?"  
"I...I can't, Sammy..." Dean whimpered pathetically, even while the movements of his hand got stronger, more independent, relying less on Sam, and more on his natural, submissive behavior. Sam extracted his hand, and smirked when Dean's hand just kept going in small, jerky movements. "Oh, God!" he gasped, when Sam's cock just kept getting bigger and bigger.

"Yes, you can, Dean. And you will. Even if I have to tie you to that bed and fuck you within an inch of your life, you will learn, Dean. You will learn that you belong under me, with your ass up and your thighs spread." Sam groaned as he scented the tell-tale beginnings of Omega pheromones in the air. "Are you getting wet, Dean? Are you getting wet at the idea of me forcing my huge, fucking dick into that tight cunt of yours?" Without waiting for an answer, Sam reached behind Dean and, with a little effort, slipped his hand into Dean's jeans. The seat of his underwear was soaked. 

Dean whimpered again, but this time, instead of denying himself what he so obviously needed, Sam felt him give in, as he moaned wantonly, pushing his upturned face into Sam's neck, breathing in desperately, and his ass into Sam's hand. "Alpha, alpha, please..." he sobbed, as he gripped Sam's cock tighter, stroking his hand up and down at an almost brutal pace.

Sam closed his eyes as he let the scent of aroused Omega-bitch wash over him. "You feel that, Dean?" he asked huskily into Dean's skin, replacing his hand over Dean's and pressing it down, making Dean grind against him. Fat drops of precome were escaping from his piss-slit, easing their way. "That's what a real man feels like. That's a real man's dick. Tell me, baby, how big is yours?"

Dean shook his head slightly, face still muffled into the meeting of Sam’s shoulder and neck. Sam pushed his middle finger into the crack of Dean's ass, pausing as his underwear covered finger caught at the rim of Dean's soaking wet hole. Dean keened and squirmed, obviously struggling with the decision to either shy away from the touch on his most sensitive and private area, or grind down onto Sam's finger. Sam made the decision for him as he began pushing his finger inside, underwear and all.

"Sam, Sam, oh fuck, fuck...." Dean sobbed, as Sam pushed in deeper. He knew, to a degree, it had to hurt. The wet, rough cotton was probably abrading the soft, untouched walls of Dean's inner asshole. But Sam wanted it to hurt. He wanted Dean to FEEL it. Feel it whenever he sat down. Feel it whenever he decided to hit on some cheap waitress at a diner. Feel it whenever he was playing Alpha, fooling everyone else but himself and Sam. FEEL that, in reality, he was just a hole that needed to be fucked.  
***TBC***


End file.
